I haven’t been writing because of an incident that happened just prior to leaving Texas. After that, I’ve been debating what to do with my journal, thinking of burning it or mailing it home. But I don’t want to be without it, I want the words in it to continue to exist, and I don’t want anyone else to have the chance to read it. So after much thought, I’ve decided to keep it with me as I travel, and I’m going to continue to document my world.

So let’s see, should I start with what happened, or start with our journey to get where we’re at right now, which is Yellowstone, packing up the camping gear and ready to head to Seattle. Hmmm. I think I’ll start with the journey.

We left Texas, got to Colorado, spent the night in a hostel and the next day we spent in nature, I was needing the mountains and the trees after Texas. We hiked along the Colorado River and did a little rafting, not anything too intense. Took a side trip just to go to the Four Corners so we could stand in four states at once. We weren’t sure if we would get there on the way back, uncertain yet of the specifics of Route 66. So basically we stood in Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah all at once. I thought it would be awesome to fuck right there in that spot, but yeah I didn’t have the opportunity or the privacy.

Anyway, from there we ventured North towards Yellowstone. I had never been to Yellowstone though I had been to Colorado, so we all opted to spend more time in Wyoming. We camped out four nights in Wyoming and did tons of shit. Yellowstone is the most amazing place I’ve ever been to in my life, in terms of nature, besides the Grand Canyon. I was so glad to spend the time there because I was really needing that intense of a nature experience, after what happened in Texas, and all the while I’ve been struggling with my addictions.

I’m like two people. One of me is intellectual, philosophical, active, and talented, and likes to write and go to museums and be healthy and spend time in nature. The other me is reckless, dangerously adventurous, irresponsible, self destructive, and confused. I often balance a mix between the two, which isn’t bad. But if I could keep them together, eliminating the dangerous aspect and the self destruction and irresponsibility, strengthening the healthy part, I’d be a perfect version of me.

Ok well I guess I’ll write about what happened in Texas, then I’ll talk about what we did in Wyoming.

My name is Wall Grimm and this is the story of the Texas Incident.

THE ACCUSATION OF WALL GRIMM

We weren’t far from the border of, I don’t know if it was Oklahoma or New Mexico, but either way we were almost out of Texas. We made a stop at a truckstop that was kind of a smaller, isolated one, kind of a sketchy place. The plan was we were all going to shower and rejuvenate, have some coffee, stretch our legs and move on, but my friends were not feeling safe. Patrick and Pete were not comfortable for one reason, and Hasty was uncomfortable for another reason. Ironically, I was the only one that felt fine there, but I was the one shit happened to. Patrick and Pete only used the restroom, got some coffee and snacks then went back out to the van. They grabbed stuff for Hasty too because she still wanted to shower. So I told her I’d stand outside the building and smoke while she showered, because I could see inside through the glass and see the women’s showers clearly. Well, not the showers themselves, which would have been awesome, but the door.

Once she was done I made sure she got to the van safely. They were all going to drink a little coffee and relax and said they didn’t mind if I actually had a hot meal in the diner. So I just had some pancakes, I’d been craving pancakes for a while, and coffee and orange juice. It didn’t take me long, but by the time I was done I decided I didn’t want to shower and left the diner to head straight to the van. I was about to light a cigarette en route when I was jumped by four huge truckers who beat me down then hog tied me. I mean that literally. They fucking hog tied me and kept kicking me until a cop arrived. My friends had no idea this was going on, they were in the van at a slight distance, resting, probably estimating a longer meal and then a shower, but my meal was brief and I didn’t shower.

These guys anyhow kept calling me a terrorist and were telling me to go back to my own country. Every time I tried to speak I got kicked or stomped. When the cop arrived, he untied me, handcuffed me instead and shoved me in the back of his car. I had no idea what was going on, but I sat there for a long time and watched as the truckstop was evacuated. Everyone just stood around, some were harassing me, calling me some of the most disgusting racial names I’ve ever heard and I didn’t know what they even meant really. Hasty, Patrick, and Pete wandered out and saw me in the car and they were talking to the cop. Then some other emergency type vehicles arrived and people went in the diner. They came out five to ten minutes later carrying my backpack. My fucking backpack. I forgot my fucking backpack at the counter and they thought it was a fucking bomb. The cop let me out, unhandcuffed me. I got no apology, no offer to file a report in complaint, no offer to press charges for assault and battery, no acknowledgement that I was falsely accused of a heinous crime that is the antithesis of my character. Truthfully though, I was glad because I just wanted to get out of there. They said it was my dark hair and eyes and skin. I’m dark now because of being in Florida, so I’m really tanned, but generally I’m kind of light, but I have the olive skin. They said it was also my accent. I don’t think they ever heard a Boston accent before, or at least not in person. They were like, you need to get yourself to a washateria as they handed my backpack to me. They didn’t offer to get me to the hospital but they told me my clothes smelled, which I guess to them is more important. They looked through my journal, which was the most invasive thing of all.

I went to the restroom and cleaned up a little, then met my friends back out at the van, then we left. Fucking nuts that was.

So yeah, Colorado was nice, but this time in Wyoming was amazing. We went kayaking, rafting, hiking, horse back riding, and camped four nights. We went to some hot springs, Old Faithful, and even Devil’s Tower which was so freakin’ cool, we kept referencing “Close Encounter’s of the Third Kind.”

For me, so far, it was my favorite part of the trip I think, getting away from so many people, from myself, getting back to the land, the wildlife, the majesty of nature. Now we’re packing up to move on to Seattle. And just as I was finally losing the black eyes from my broken nose, I’m beat up again. Geesh, my life…

*******

For a chronological list of links to all the journal entries, refer to the Journal Entries Index Pagehttp://wp.me/P41c99-J

For posts that aren’t journal entries, feel free to explore the Categories in the left side bar or the other pages above, including the Character Directories which list the posts each character is mentioned in.

Post navigation

Did I just get a glimpse of the other side of Dr. Doyle? “I’m like two people. One of me is intellectual, philosophical, active, and talented, and likes to write and go to museums and be healthy and spend time in nature. The other me is reckless, dangerously adventurous, irresponsible, self destructive, and confused. I often balance a mix between the two, which isn’t bad.”